


The Day the Shadows Grew

by Astray



Category: Elisabeth Das Musical - Takarazuka (2007), Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo
Genre: Angst, Gen, I am not sorry, Mizu!Tod gave me too many feels, Takarazuka Elisabeth 2007/Romeo e Giulietta Crossover, black angel!Mercutio, implied Mercutio/Benvolio, just enough to make me feel even worse, the ending is not that sad I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:42:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his death, Mercutio became one of Death's black angels. At first, he tried to keep watch on those he cared about, but eventually learned that it was impossible. When he first met Rudolf, centuries later, he felt the need to protect him. Protect him from the cruel fate that he had seen dealt to Benvolio.<br/>Because no one, be it in life or death, should have to walk the path alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day the Shadows Grew

**Author's Note:**

> Plotbunny courtesy of Ambrose. Mostly due to my unhealthy obsession with ReG, and her dragging me into the 'Zuka fandom. I also totally blame Mizu!Tod for being so awesome. And the musical itself.

When Mercutio had died, he had thought he would go to Hell. However, if Hell it was, it was nothing like he had expected. In place of a terrible furnace was a calm, dark, cold place. A peaceful place. From there, he had echoes of the living – and for some times, he had watched over Benvolio. Benvolio never seemed to see him though – except in the darkest hours of night when, screaming from a nightmare, Benvolio would fall into his arms. And how warm Benvolio seemed – and then Benvolio saw him and it was like he had seen a ghost. The pain in his beloved friend's eyes was too much to bear – and from then, Mercutio had not dared disrupt his friend's life. He had no realized until later – he was dead, that he knew. But then, he saw them – Death, his new Lord and Master – tall and pale – hard as mausoleum stones over which they stood watch. If angels had no sex, then neither had Death. Death did not need to say much for Mercutio to understand – as a black angel, he had to do as bid. And sometimes, watch over the dying for his Lord. He had watched over Benvolio until Benvolio faded into the dark – his light extinguished by time's lashing breath. He had waited in silence by the cold, dark stone – nothing.   
“What do you expect?”  
“Where is he?”  
“Not here. He never will.”   
It dawned on him – Benvolio, this beautiful, good soul, could not don the shade of the angel he had himself turned into. Death chilling hand on his face – if he himself was so cold, just how colder could Death be? “Weep not now – heartache is your lot. And his. Your life and death brought woe, and for this, you serve me.” You are like me. And Mercutio wondered if Death had once felt this pain.   
Decades later, centuries later – he had his answer. Death fell from their darkened pinnacle, a great raven from skies. Wings torn. And he understood more than he wanted, what it must be for Death. Feared, rejected – this fear, this rejection brought him back to that time when he had tried to offer comfort to another soul yet living. Death grew cruel – and Mercutio knew that Time would only sharpen the pain. When this child, this bright, impossibly benevolent child, came across them, Mercutio had wanted to protect him. A child calling for a mother absent – a cry he recognized. A cry he had hoped never to hear again. Because death brought a certain kind of peace, but not wished forgetfulness. That child grew and torn between loyalties, his spirit spiralling into a vacuum. Death was following, and Mercutio did not want this child to suffer. He wondered if Death thought hurting the child would hurt the mother – but surely, to let the child grow older was a torture unfit to be dealt.   
Once the now young man was alone, Mercutio walked to him. Slowly, quietly. The child was not even afraid when he saw him – recognizing perhaps the raiment of his kind. Mercutio sat next to him, and spoke softly. “Your pain could end.”  
“I can't die now. I'm too young.”  
“You are. But what you feel is ancient.” He was so weary, and it might have showed.   
“You are not like Tod. Not really. Why?”  
“There was someone I wished I could have shielded from the hurt once. I failed.”  
“Helping me won't help him.”  
That child was clever. “I know this. But I can't very well let you suffer like this.” He got back up and prepared to depart. He wanted to say something, but he had no word. It was only after he had turned his back that the words were spoken – driven like nails through his bones: “I can't be alone anymore.” And he heard the plea, the sadness – no, grief – of a young one whose childhood was ripped from him, now told to grow up, but without a future he could choose – the puppet of those stronger and older. All the things this prince knew without knowing. Death could have you any time, and yet... Mercutio suspected Death would not intervene.  
Arms wrapped around him. Sobs racking the young one's frame, and it shook Mercutio. He would help him. He gently turned around. The youth had a hand on his dagger now. And Mercutio did not even want to joke. He smiled, albeit sadly, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You don't have to be alone. I will stay with you, if you want.”  
“Please... Yes.”   
A swift death was all he could do, staying with this young prince while his heart beat the last measure. Cold... He did not look up, aware of Death's closeness.   
“You acted rashly.”  
“If you have to punish someone, punish me. This child did not deserve such fate.”  
When Death caught his chin, forcing him to look into their eyes, Mercutio did not flinch. Fear he could deal with. What he saw on Death's features was something new. It was relief, stark and bright. Maybe Death knew they had been cruel, and to let Mercutio act on his own was an act of mercy they could not allow themselves. Maybe. And so, Mercutio was allowed to remain – in this cold and dark place. This place where he finally found peace. This place where Rudolf now stood as well. Black angels they were in the service of the mighty ruler of the Underworld. But service to Death was no servitude. And mercy they could give still. Neither of them alone anymore, the chilled souls and heart slightly less so since companionship emerged. Friendship formed and kept. A promise kept, at last.


End file.
